Whimsy in the White Mountains

August 11, 2017

This morning, Jay faced me as we packed up. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

I knew he was referring to yesterday’s panic on the mountain. I knew I didn’t have to continue. But if I stopped, I would give up the dream of this grand adventure. Somehow, during the night, my decision had been made. “I want to keep hiking.” My voice sounded strong and sure. “I might get scared again.” My voice began to waver. “But I think I can do this. I really appreciate all your help yesterday. If I keep hiking, maybe eventually I can conquer this fear!”

The trail led over Mt. Jefferson, past Mt. Clay, and up Mt. Washington, tallest mountain on the northern half of the Appalachian Trail. I was delighted to see that for many portions of the trail today, someone had made an effort to change tumbled rocks into a path. Numerous rocks had been moved, turned so the flat side was facing up, making steps and smooth tread.

Last night a thunderstorm had come through, and today the rocks were a bit wet, as well as the air around us. Fog swirled, constantly playing peek-a-boo with sun and mountain peaks. It cheered me, to see the playfulness of the weather!

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* * * * *

As we hiked this morning, we met two hikers coming from the Madison Spring Hut. “Were you outside during the storm last night?” one asked me.

‘Outside?’ I thought. ‘Who would be silly enough to be outside in the night during a thunderstorm on a mountain?’

“Well, no, I was inside my tent,” I told the man.

The hiker waved impatiently. “That’s what I meant. Not in the Hut. Outside.”

“Did the thunderstorm keep y’all up?” I asked.

“Yes, what a show! We watched the lightning crackle over the mountain! It was great … at least from the inside of a building.” The man grinned with enthusiasm.

“I must admit, I watched the lightning from the inside of my eyelids,” I laughed. “That was show enough for me!”

* * * * *

Later in the day, as we were climbing Mt. Washington, we met a group of young people shepherded by one adult. Intrigued, I asked one of the teens, “What group is this?”

“Oh, we’re a Christian academy,” the boy answered cheerfully.

‘Wow!’ I thought. ‘That is cool, a school that takes their students out hiking! I wonder what academy it is?’

When the chaperone approached, I asked, “What religious affiliation are you all?” The man looked confused. I explained, “The student ahead said you were a Christian academy.”

The man laughed. “Oh, he’s always joking. We’re just a group of friends out hiking for the day.”

Just then the boy called back, “Come on ‘Father Paul’. Don’t get too far behind us!”

“Shut up, you scalawag!” the man yelled. “I told her the truth!”

I doubled over in laughter as the man passed me, still talking to the boy. What fun!

August 13, 2017

This morning we saw Sasha and Dragonfly after several days of trailing behind them. As we greeted them, Sasha informed us, “Dragonfly has been renamed to Firefly!”

“Oh?” I asked. “How did that happen?”

“Well, when a hiker comes dragging into Lake of the Clouds Hut after climbing Mt Washington in the dark, we figure she’s really a firefly in disguise!”

* * * * *

Lunch time near Ethan Pond turns into a siesta. It feels so good to just sit and rest, soaking in the warm sunshine! As we finally marshal our forces to leave, I notice a spider spinning a web between my legs! Jay laughs. “You know you’ve had a long lunch when a spider manages to attach a web to your knees!”

* * * * *

There is actually a section of flat trail in the White Mountains! Four miles of lovely trail lie between Ethan Pond and the approach to Zealand Falls Hut! Even better, there are blueberries on part of it! I’m in heaven as we stroll along the flat path, picking handfuls of blueberries!

August 14, 2017

We’ve met hordes of hikers today, and as the day comes to a close, more hikers appear! We had been planning to camp at Garfield Pond, as we were sure the Garfield Ridge Shelter was full to bursting. But approaching the pond, we could see a tent city springing up. “Let’s keep looking,” Jay suggested. “There’s bound to be a flat spot somewhere before the next mountain.”

We hiked on, racing the coming dusk. Jay pulled ahead, disappearing between the trees. Suddenly he reappeared on the trail. “I found a place,” he told me. We followed a faint deer track a few yards until the trees opened in a perfect circle, flat and not too rocky. ‘Oh thank goodness,’ I thought. ‘But where shall we get water?’

“Do you think you could get enough water from the little puddle we passed a few minutes ago?” Jay asked.

I walked back through the deepening twilight and looked at the small pool. Perhaps a gallon of water, with a sprinkling of frog eggs on one side, came from a slow seep on the side of the trail. I dipped up a liter and looked at it. Wow, clear, cold water! We only needed three liters. There would still be enough for the frog eggs until the seep replenished. A perfect place for a quiet evening!

August 15, 2017

The trail undulates up and down between Mt. Lafayette, Mt. Lincoln, Little Haystack, and Liberty Mountain. Franconia Ridge is so picturesque, it’s hard to know where to point a camera! The ridge slopes steeply on each side, but the trail tread invites feet to walk safely, especially today, with bright sun shining! “It reminds me of the Great Wall of China,” Jay remarks. I look at the wall of the ridge, and find myself transported to China. What a treat!

August 18, 2017

The fun thing about a day of rain is being able to decide, “Hey, we can quit walking anytime!” At 3:00 p.m., as the rain continued falling, we stopped near Beaver Brook in the Kinsman Notch, and pitched our tent. What a treat, to snuggle down into dry sleeping bag while the air outside is filled with water!

August 19, 2017

Mt. Moosilauke is considered the southern edge of the White Mountains. We climbed from Kinsman Notch to the top of the mountain this morning. The first 1.5 miles is notoriously steep. It took us 2 hours! But the climb was always in the trees, and wood blocks made easy steps up a few of the steep sections! After that, the gradient gentled slightly, turning the trail to rocks, but not cliffs.

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We marked the end of the White Mountains by staying at the Hiker Welcome Hostel. They took us to a burger joint that served grass-fed beef, had live music, and a campfire! What a way to celebrate some of the hardest miles I’ve ever hiked!

Misery on Mt. Madison

August 10, 2017

Today we climb Mt. Madison, an ascent of 3,300 feet from Pinkham Notch. Beautiful sunshine and a gentle cooling breeze encourage us to leave the comforts of the Joe Dodge Lodge and begin our climb. The first six miles are below tree line. I am happy.

The trees thin, and we break out into high alpine countryside. I discover Mt. Madison is not made of friendly granite. The rocks are rough volcanic blocks, tumbled like a pile of rubble, haphazardly leaning against one another, for miles and miles. I begin climbing, but acrophobia rises much faster than my bodily ascent. I try to remind myself of the importance of living in the now. Unfortunately, ‘now’ is terrifying, and I DON’T want to be here! Panic brings on very real physical symptoms, and suddenly I’m not only fighting emotional upheaval, but also dealing with nausea, dizziness, and shaking muscles.

IMG_20170810_163244528_HDR — Mt. Madison strikes fear in my heart on a gorgeous day!

Jay stops to wait for me. I approach, with tear-filled eyes and trembling lips. “I’m scared,” I whimper.

A look of determined cheerfulness comes to Jay’s face. “You know this is irrational,” he counsels. He gestures around us. “The weather is perfect. These are just rocks we’re climbing. It’s not even cliffs. You can do this!”

“I know,” I whisper. I try to marshal what little brain the panic has left me. “Please, just tell me that you’re glad I’m along.”

Jay looks at me in disbelief. “You want me to tell you I’m glad you are here?”

I nod miserably. “It’s important for me to feel like you are glad I’m with you.”

“Well, okay.” Jay spaces out each word. “I…am…glad…you…are…with…me.” Then he turns and quickly strides upward, putting space between us.

IMG_20170810_151401184_HDR — Mt. Madison has several false summits, all covered in tippy boulders.

I continue carefully inching along, grabbing rocks with a death grip, planting each foot as if it would grow roots. I envy Jay’s quick stride, each foot skimming the tops of the rocks. I watch him pause, arms akimbo, drinking in the incredible view. In my panicked state, I can barely look from one rock to another. The light breeze feels like a pounding force against my body. The view is just so much empty air as far as my brain is concerned.

I try (oh how I try!), to conquer this fear. I know this kind of mountain climbing is Jay’s favorite, and I hate to ruin it for him. But I am gripped in unreasonable panic, and I have a long ways to go before reaching tree line again.

IMG_20170811_163640 — Jay relaxes and enjoys the view while waiting at a cairn.

Jay waits for me at each cairn. I try to smile at him, but I know it’s a miserable failure. In desperation, I try talking again.

“I’m sorry I’m so scared. You really have done everything you could to prepare me for this. You’ve helped me lose weight, gain muscle, learn to walk with better balance. Right now you are waiting for me often, and it helps as I see how much you enjoy the views. I’m just scared!” I wail. “And I hate that I’m ruining this experience for you!”

“You aren’t ruining it,” Jay replies. “But I don’t want you to lose focus and break a leg out here, just because I brought you up this mountain.”

A dim light dawns through my anxiety. I try to explain more. “You didn’t bring me up here. It was my idea to test myself on the AT, knowing it would include the White Mountains. It’s just, we are doing this adventure together, and if I think my presence can make you happier, it might help me get over my fear. That’s why I asked you to tell me that you wanted me along, earlier. But I am responsible for myself. I just hate that I’m failing at keeping my fear of heights at bay.” I start crying again.

Our hike continues. Nothing is really solved. I’m still scared. Jay’s still stuck with me. But I do know that we love each other. And eventually, we’ll finish this mountain.

IMG_20170810_164222283 — Still climbing, with many false summits behind me.

Whether I’ll ever climb another mountain is still an unanswered question, I reflect. Why couldn’t this mountain have a trail? Negotiating this pile of rubble would have been a lot easier then. Of course, it would take an army to turn this mound of debris and fragmented boulders into a mountain with a trail. And I’m sure our generals think their soldiers have more important things to do than make a path for the comfort of one small, scared hiker. Sigh.

The rest of the climb over Mt. Madison is spent in irrational misery. That night, as we pitch our tent just a mile from the top of the mountain, I’m still very near tears. Jay reaches out and gives me an hug. Suddenly, I know tomorrow will take care of itself. I am in the present, and that includes hiking with my husband, hiking with fears, just hiking.

Now is All the Time There Is

August 9, 2017

We have now hiked north for four months, and hiked south for one month and five days. Each day has brought us closer to the White Mountains, a milestone in the 2,190 miles of the Appalachian Trail. People love to tell horror stories of hiking through the Whites. Howling winds knocking hapless hikers off ridges, pelting hail, slick rocks, frozen fingers, impenetrable fog … the list gets longer as the campfire burns lower. The more I have heard of the White Mountains, the more fearful I have become. Jay has tried to reassure me. “People like to make things sound worse than they really are. A story seems only worth telling if it exaggerates a bit.” But even Jay has worried over how to get me down Wildcat Ridge safely. And that, frankly, scares me witless!

I have always been a bit clumsy. (At the age of nine, I fell off a sidewalk and broke my arm!) So far on this trip, I have broken my clavicle, injured my knee, jammed my thumb so badly it swelled to twice its size, and received numerous bumps and serious bruises from various falls. The looming hazards of the White Mountains has brought on an unwelcome state of terror.

We’ve crossed some rough countryside since the Mahoosuc Notch. We’ve ascended and descended several thousands of feet of mountains and rocks, sometimes in rain (slick!), sometimes in sun (hot!). Each day there have been times of fear as I negotiated tough spots on the trail. There has also been fun and delight; picking blueberries on Mt. Hayes, seeing a rabbit on Mt. Moriah, changing into warm dry clothes each evening in the tent.

As we begin today’s hike, climbing 1,000 feet out of Carter Notch, I reflect upon my emotions. I realize that I learned something important in Mahoosuc Notch. When all my concentration is being used, there is no time. The present is all around me, encompassing. I live in the present, and there is no use in worrying over the future. Now is what matters.

Wildcat Ridge – a climb out of a notch, over four mountain peaks, then a descent into another notch. Only six miles, but length of trail has little to do with amount of effort needed in this stretch!

The first two miles, out of Carter Notch, took me three hours. Many times I was slowed by vertical rock scrambles. Fresh muscles, and my newfound wisdom, helped the climb go by quickly. For the next two miles, we walked the ridge, just below tree line much of the time, among stunted pines and soft moss. We crossed over four of the peaks of Wildcat Mountain, often slowed by rough tread. We paused at an observation tower to enjoy the view, then passed a ski gondola on Wildcat Mountain peak D. It was tempting to take the gondola to the bottom of the mountain! Instead, we utilized a sunny picnic table sheltered from the wind, and ate an early lunch, preparing ourselves for the 2,000 foot drop into Pinkham Notch.

IMG_20170809_100517583 — Jay enjoys the view from the observation tower on top of Wildcat Mountain peak D.

It’s hard to describe that trip down Wildcat Ridge. Measurements tell me we took four hours to hike 2 miles and descend 2,000 feet. Adjectives include steep, long, steep, rocky, steep, tough, steep, strenuous, and steep! My focus narrowed to each separate footstep, taking care to place feet and hands safely as I descended.

One place on our trail profile is described as “rocky crevasse, stairs”. In reality, the bedrock of the ridge pokes outward and splits, providing a fissure into which the trail builders threw smaller rocks. Those that stuck became “stairs” for hikers. Halfway down the fissure, the rocks end, and we had to climb out onto the edge of the bedrock again!

IMG_20170809_134505089_HDR — Sarah, with a grin born from terror, climbs down Wildcat Ridge. The road through Pinkham Notch is still very far below!

There were a couple of places where trail builders had bolted blocks of wood onto the sheer surface of the cliff, giving hikers a different type of stairs to use while climbing or descending!

I did lose focus once, as the trail turned, providing a tiny spot of flat ground. My loss of focus coincided with a waver in my balance, a catch of my foot on a root, and a fall. A rock thumped my knee, and a sharp point on a branch snatched at my neck. For a few moments, fear and pain overwhelmed me, and all I could do was lay on the trail, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry too much. Jay sat down above me, giving me time and space to work through the accident. Later, when it was established that all I had was a few scratches and a couple of formidable bruises, Jay told me, “You get hurt in the creepiest ways!”

Pinkham Notch, when finally reached, was a welcome change of the present! Jay had arranged for us to celebrate our first major challenge of the White Mountains by staying the night at the Joe Dodge Lodge, along with a delectable all-you-can-eat dinner and breakfast! Yes, now is all the time there is, and I am trying to live there!

Time Stands Still in the Mahoosuc Notch

August 3, 2017

Today we climb Old Speck Mtn, gaining 2,500 feet in altitude. From there we climb over and down the Mahoosuc Arm, with many boulder and bare granite ledges to ascend and descend. While walking down the ridge line of Mahoosuc Arm, we observe a thunderstorm pouring rain into a valley on our left. It is a little scary, we are so exposed on the bare ridge! But the wind keeps the thunderstorm away from us, and the rocks stay dry as we walk.

At the bottom of the Mahoosuc Arm, a creek, Bull Branch, burbles through the trees. A large campsite invites us to stop early. “I know we’ve only hiked 7 miles today, but we’re very near the Mahoosuc Notch. I think it would be better to camp here, and face the Notch in the morning, when we’re fresh,” Jay tells me. I don’t need a second invitation to drop my pack! Camp chores get finished quickly, and we curl up in our cozy shelter. Relaxation and ease, hurray!

About 4:45 p.m., our storm buddies from yesterday come by. Camel, Peeps, Sasha, Emma, and Sawyer stop to consult with one another. Do they go on through the Notch now, with three hours of daylight left? Or do they follow our example and make camp early? Being young and energetic, the five decide to continue on. We wish them well, and crawl back into our tent.

Fifteen minutes later, that thunderstorm in the far valley sends a few buckets of rain our way. The water pelts down, pounding our tent, puddling around us on the ground. I watch the liquid gather and flow, feeling smugly warm and dry. Ah, the comforts of technology!

Another fifteen minutes go by, and suddenly we hear loud splashing footsteps. It’s our five hiker friends! “The Mahoosuc Notch is crazy in the rain!” Camel tells us. “We decided retreat was the better part of valor.”

“Yeah, not that we’re running away or anything,” Peeps chimes in.

“You’re just being intelligent,” I tell them. “We’re glad to see you safe!”

The five set up their tents, and we all settle in for an early night, getting a well-deserved rest before tomorrow’s test!

August 4, 2017

Morning fog drifts past as we pack up, while blue sky shimmers above the swirls of gray mist. The Mahoosuc Notch awaits!

This is perhaps one of the most famous miles on the Appalachian Trail. Huge tumbled boulders are crammed between incredibly sheer cliffs. A stream runs underneath, with ice pockets lurking deep in shadowy clefts. Moss, ferns, and trees fight for purchase on and between the granite boulders, filling the area with a jungle of greenery. The temperature drops 10 degrees as we begin negotiating the boulders, and the fog continues to swirl between the cliffs above us. It’s been described as a climbing gym for grown ups, and many hikers find this to be their favorite mile.

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Jay and I inch along, sometimes near our five friends, sometimes getting left behind as their youthful enthusiasm (and muscles) carry them forward. We meet many northbound hikers also, making the Notch a very social occasion!

Some imaginative person has painted white blazes through the Notch, but the blazes are really more of a suggestion than an actual trail. I hear one hiker tell another, “This is a game of choices. Try a way and see if it works for you.”

At one point, faced with 10 foot high slabs of granite, I decide it might be easier to follow a tunnel under a boulder, hoping it will lead me to the other side. Emma has a more adventurous spirit, and stronger muscles. She climbs to the top of one boulder, balances on a knife edge for a moment, then grabs a tree root above her head and swings through the air to the top of another boulder! What an amazing move! And with a full pack on her back!

Jay and I continue to crawl, jump, climb. I grab at finger holds, haul my body and pack over obstacles, balance on corners and edges. Over, under, around, between … it just keeps going. I hear Sasha ask Emma, “Are you finding this to be fun?” I grin at Emma’s cautious response, “Well, I’m not hating it. It takes a lot of concentration.” I silently agree. My brain feels as if I have been putting together a very large 3-D puzzle. I’m so focused on route-finding, everything else disappears. There is no sense of passing time, it’s as if the sun is standing still, all the world stops as we work our way through.

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I come to another tumble of granite slabs. Just as I reach high for a hand hold, a hiker’s head pops out from a hole beside my left foot! Startling, to say the least!

A few yards further on, Jay follows me through a boulder tunnel and gets slightly stuck. “Did you go feet first or head first?” he asks plaintively.

“Ummm, I kind of oozed through sideways on my stomach,” I tell him with a grin.

By the end of the mile, as the cliffs widen, my legs are distinctly rubbery, and each knee wobbles between tibia, fibula, and femur. What a fun, but strenuous puzzle to solve! Our reward for solving it is another mountain to climb. The south peak of Fulling Mill Mountain, only 900 feet above the Mahoosuc Notch, saps the last of my feeble muscles. When camp is made, exhausted sleep claims me almost before my head hits the sleeping pad!

Timing is Everything

August 2, 2017

Slack pack: Stash one’s gear at a hostel, utilize a shuttle, and complete a segment of one’s thru-hike as a long day hike, unencumbered with the weight of a full pack.

5:30 a.m. – Wake up. Walk to a nearby deli for breakfast. Get back to the hostel in time to grab our lightened packs and…

7:00 a.m. – Take the shuttle to Grafton Notch.

7:30 a.m. – Spend a few minutes puzzling over our direction! We’ve been hiking south on the AT, but today we’ve skipped ahead, and are hiking 10.2 miles north, back to the hostel. From which side of the trail head do we leave?

Our goal is to climb both east and west peaks of Baldpate Mtn before the afternoon thunderstorm hits, and hopefully catch the 5:00 p.m. shuttle to the hostel for the night.

We begin hiking, through birches, pines, firs, and spruce. For a few hundred yards, the trail is flat, with mud and boardwalks. A rather large green frog hops through the mud, pausing long enough for me to snap a picture. We pass a trail register sign where someone has written, “Rewild your mind.” I smile. Yes, the AT can change one’s brain a bit!

The trail slopes steeply, with a 2,600 foot climb ahead. We take our time, walking extra slowly for the first 30 minutes as our muscles warm up, then settling into our usual steady plod. A hiker named Rob once told us, “I’ve watched the two of you going uphill. It seems as if you’re barely moving, but you never stop! My heart’s banging away, my lungs are laboring, and you just keep inching along, as if you could go forever.”

Blue sky above, dirt and granite below, light packs, and light hearts make the climb up the west peak of Baldpate Mtn feel relatively easy, though long. We break out above treeline just as we reach the top, with 360 degrees of a gorgeous view! The sight of most interest to me is the east peak of Baldpate Mtn ahead.

IMG_20170802_105754190 — Looking to east peak of Baldpate Mtn.

The trail drops a precipitous 300 feet into a saddle, then climbs another 600 feet to a granite top. Our path becomes bare granite, marked with rock cairns. Jay calls this the ‘granite sidewalk’. I say it’s a very STEEP sidewalk! We come to one 25 foot vertical drop, peer over the edge, and I give a cheer. Some industrious soul has built a wooden ladder to aid hikers! Hurray!

IMG_20170802_110451342 — Jay climbing down. It’s a looooong ladder!

The climb up the east peak feels longer than 600 vertical feet. There are many bare granite ledges to scramble up and over, with lengthy pauses to look at the view. I’m so thankful we decided to slack pack, thus climbing this mountain in the morning, when my muscles are fresh, the weather is still beautiful, and the rocks are dry!

IMG_20170802_113039704 — The picture never makes it look quite as steep as it feels!

At the top of the mountain, our attention is claimed by ripe blueberries! Our forward progress slows still more as we pick and eat this most delicious trail treat. With attention focused on searching out nuggets of blue among green bushes, we ignore the large black cloud coalescing in the air above us. The sun is shining, my mouth is happy, all is well in my small world!

As we move down the mountain, still picking blueberries, we suddenly hear branches creak, and a loud exhale emanate from the middle of a pine thicket ahead! What could it be? Surely not a deer so high in altitude. Could it be a bear? We carefully move around the thicket, still picking berries, but giving a wide space to the mystery animal concealed there.

We finally reach taller trees, and the blueberries fizzle out. I happily continue down the mountain, sometimes on the ‘granite sidewalk’, sometimes climbing down boulders, and occasionally getting to walk on a bit of dirt. About 1.5 miles from the top, that large black cloud which had begun forming earlier decides it is time to take action. First I hear rain spatter in the tree tops. I know I am near Frye Notch Lean-to, but how near? Just as the rain breaks the leaf barrier and begins to sprinkle my hair, I hear the unmistakable laughter of a hiker named Camel on the slope below me. “Oh good,” I think. “If Camel is laughing, that means he made it to the shelter before the rain. It can’t be far.” Jay is ahead, rapidly disappearing between the trees. The rain increases in intensity, spattering cold wet drops across my shirt and pack. I begin to run, just a little. As the cloud opens its floodgates, with thunder and lightning accompanying, I see the roof of the shelter. I tumble inside as the water sheets down! Jay and five other hikers are crowded under the metal roof, with the rain battering above, and speech all but impossible to hear! Whooeee! Timing is everything!

IMG_20170802_132228349 — Hikers waiting out the storm together.

We eat a late lunch as we wait out the storm, laughing and talking with the other hikers. I’m so blessed, to be surrounded by other happy adventurers. I reflect upon the gifts of technology, that we could plan our day around the storm, hiking above the treeline early in the morning, and now with only 4.5 miles left through wet trees. Life is good!

5:05 p.m. – We reach the road just five minutes too late for the first and shorter shuttle. Dang! Nothing to do but wait.

5:35 p.m. – We catch the next shuttle, which makes a larger loop before getting back to the hostel.

6:40 p.m. – We stagger out of the shuttle van, our leg muscles protesting sudden use after being cramped in one position so long for the ride.

7:00 p.m. – We slide into a seat at the nearby deli a few minutes before closing. The waitress and cook graciously feed our ravenous hiker appetites!

8:00 p.m. – We tumble into bed, worn out from our active day.

I May Only Walk This Way Once …

July 27-28, 2017

The small wooden sign nailed to the tree bore a single word. Five simple letters, promising mystery, excitement, adventure.

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“Caves?” I turned hopefully to Jay.

“It’s not on our AT guide,” Jay looked thoughtful. “Do you really have the energy to explore it now? What if we come back tomorrow after breakfast.”

Jay was right. We were just finishing a grueling 10 mile hike over the tops of three mountains. Only minutes before I had been counting the steps between me and a horizontal position in our tent, soon to be set up at the nearby Piazza Rock Lean-to.

Our day began with a 700 foot ascent of Saddleback Junior Mountain, only considered a junior because it didn’t quite reach 4,000 feet altitude. It’s slightly lower top kept us under the clouds, however, and gave us a great view of the surrounding countryside.

Then it was down 500 feet, and up another 1,000 feet to the top of The Horn, which did breach the 4,000 foot mark and put us in the clouds. There wasn’t much of a view, but we weren’t in danger of sunburn either!

We then descended approximately 500 feet again, then climbed 600 feet to the top of Saddleback Mountain. The view at the bottom of the ‘saddle’ was spectacular, with blobs of fog blowing across our faces, in turn obscuring, then revealing a world of green trees and sparkling lakes below us. Up on the top of the mountain however, the cold wind blew fog mercilessly around us, shrinking our world to the next white blaze as we made our way across the wide bare granite summit.

Finally, the last four miles of our day included a 2,100 foot descent. This, really, was the hardest part of the day, as we slid and scrambled down, down, down. It seemed the shelter would never appear.

And now, caves beckoned!

“Promise we can come back after breakfast?” I asked Jay.

“You bet,” he replied, and continued down the trail, headed for the tent sites by the shelter.

The next morning, most of the hikers at the shelter were talking of going to the town of Rangeley. Everyone was anticipating showers, clean clothes, delicious hamburgers and milkshakes. When asked if we were headed to town, I replied, “Yes, but first we have to go explore those caves.”

The other hikers looked at us in shock. Some had not even seen the sign yesterday when coming toward the shelter. Others had seen the sign, were slightly intrigued, but not enough to delay a trip to town.

“It’s only two miles from here to the road to Rangeley,” I explained. “I may never get a chance to be here again. How can I pass up caves? The town will still be there later.”

Breakfast over, most of the hikers headed south, while Jay and I took a blue-blazed trail a short distance west. A jumble of huge boulders extended through the trees, up the mountainside, as far as the eye could see. Blue painted blazes led me over, under, around, and between giant tilted slabs of granite. Dark passageways beckoned, small ledges offered finger and toe-holds to climb to the next level, patches of gravel became spots to catch ones breath in shadowy comfort. One large ledge gave room for me to sit and dangle my feet in mid-air, looking at the entrance to this vertical cave some 20 feet below me. I kept climbing, lured by blue blazes promising more cave above. Finally, as leg muscles protested, I came out on a large level rock, looking through the top of the forest canopy. I realized I had climbed several hundred feet. “Hmm,” I thought. “I just climbed and descended this mountain yesterday. Maybe I better stop here.” Blue blazes continued up the mountainside, but my brain was full of cavernous images, my imagination on fire with the possibilities for stories here. What a wondrous place we live in, Planet Earth!

Fifteen minutes later I had rejoined Jay at the bottom of the caves, and we continued south on the AT, headed for town. Five minute later, our progress was once again derailed when we came to another blue-blazed trail, this one leading to Piazza Rock. We had wondered at the unusual name of the shelter, now was our chance to find out. The trail headed steeply uphill for one tenth of a mile, over rocks and more rocks. Suddenly we came to a clearing, and there high above us, was the predecessor of Pride Rock from the movie, The Lion King! HUGE! AIRBORNE! AMAZING! Words fail to describe, and pictures don’t show it all, but wow, what a sight! The delights of town, wonderful as they are, just can’t compete with the wonders of nature.

Each Day is Something New

July 18, 2017

On the way down from Moxie Bald Mountain, we passed some huge boulders, with slim, twisty passages between. What fun! A miniature catacombs waiting for exploration.

July 19, 2017

The sunrise from a ridge near the top of Pleasant Pond Mountain set the tone for the whole day. What a glorious way to begin!

IMG_20170719_052122000_HDR — View from our tent this morning.

July 20, 2017

Today we crossed the Kennebec River using a canoe ferry! The Appalachian Trail Conference provides a free canoe ferry service for all hikers each spring, summer, and fall. There were six of us waiting on the bank of the river as the canoe crossed toward us. Craig, the ferryman, gave us a lecture on boat safety and highlights of the trail to come. Then he took two people at a time to the far shore, each time crossing back alone. When it was our turn, Jay kindly let me paddle, and he sat in the middle. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze kissed our faces, and the ride was over all too soon. “That was perhaps the best part of the trail,” I told Jay when we finished.

IMG_20170720_095051467 — Craig stands up in the canoe as he ferries towards us.

July 21, 2017

We entered the Bigelow Preserve today, named for a brigade commander in the Revolutionary War who climbed a peak “for military reasons”. We camped at Little Bigelow Lean-to, site of “tubs” along the AT. The tubs are natural, formed as a stream pools and drops down a deep cleft. We climbed down and around a couple of big boulders, and had a fast, cold bath all to ourselves! What a treat!

July 22, 2017

Today we climbed four mountain peaks in the space of 10 miles, Little Bigelow Mountain, Avery Peak and West Peak of the Bigelow Mountains, and South Horn. The tops of Avery Peak, West Peak, and South Horn were above tree line, giving us lovely panoramic views while the wind whipped in a frenzy around us. The terrain was the roughest I’ve seen since climbing Katahdin, and it took me 11.5 hours to hike 10 miles. I was one tired hiker by the time we reached our campsite at Horns Pond Lean-to!

July 23, 2017

On our way down the mountain from our campsite, we met a northbound hiker named Soul Flower. She is 70 years old, and really enjoying her hike! I thought of how tired I had been after climbing those four peaks yesterday, and marveled at Soul Flower’s energy and athleticism!

We talked a few minutes, and Soul Flower told us that her husband of 48 years had died in 2014. She hiked the PCT in 2015 as a way of grieving. Then in 2016, she started a thru-hike of the AT. However, she fell and broke her hand, and had to leave the trail at Harper’s Ferry, WV. So this year she is finishing her AT hike, going from Harper’s Ferry to Katahdin. She has made it through the toughest part of the hike, through New Hampshire and southern Maine. I am entranced with her story, and inspired to continue with my own!

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P.S. Take a look at our Trail Angel page on the menu! Scroll to the bottom to see the latest trail angel help we have received.

The Real Heroes

July 16, 2017

The AT has more than its share of mythical figures, inspiring stories, people seeking and finding redemption, peace, direction. Earl Schaffer, the first AT thru-hiker, laid to rest personal demons from the war. Grandma Gatewood, age 67, persevered to become a celebrity in the 1950s, after forest rangers told her, “Go home, Grandma.” Bill Erwin hiked the trail blind, depending upon his own wits and determination as well as his guide dog, Orient. Stacey Kozel conquered incredible difficulties as she thru-hiked with paralyzed legs. These are the stories that draw people to the AT, these are the stories that shine as a beacon when people grope through dark times.

However, the real heroes of the AT are a small group of dedicated volunteers, spread thinly across 2,196 miles of mountains. Trail maintenance crews make possible the dreams of thousands of hikers. Without the service of these incredible people, the trail would quickly cease to exist. For the love of the trail, these folks keep our path safer, more reliable, and navigable.

Today we were hiking through the trees, following a route of rocks and roots and mud as usual. Suddenly the sound of metal striking metal rang through the woods. We rounded a couple bends in the path and came upon three men laboring over a series of logs crossing a long morass of mud.

Peter Rodrick, head of the Maine Appalachian Trail Club (MATC), stopped to chat as we admired their work. “I’ve been wanting to get a boardwalk over this section for several years,” he gloated. “It’s good to see it happening!”

“Those logs look pretty heavy! How did you get them in here?” I asked.

“Well, we had a bunch of volunteers this morning, trucked the logs up to the nearest road, and they all carried them in. Then the three of us, Shamus LaPerriere, Scott Quint, and myself, have been working the rest of the day, laying out and securing this walkway. You know, the MATC is going more and more towards bridging these swampy places with rocks. But the boardwalks are a good deal faster to build. If made from cedar, they’ll last 20 years. I reckon the rocks might last 100 years though.”

We watched, fascinated, as Shamus and Scott used brace and bit to drill holes, then secured the last log with a couple of metal spikes, tamping them in with the back of an ax. “You two can be the first hikers to walk this,” they invited us.

It seemed to me that such a moment needed more than just two grubby hikers prosaically walking over the mud. I stepped up on the first log. “Ta-ta-ta! Ta-ra-ta-ta Ta-ta-ta!” I played on an imaginary trumpet. Then, spreading my arms for balance, I crossed, enjoying the level boards, dry feet, and ease of passage. “Wow, this is wonderful! Thank you, thank you! You are awesome!”

July 17, 2017

Today as we were hiking, once again we heard the sound of metal striking upon metal. There were five in the trail crew, bridging a long mucky stretch of trail, this time using large stones. Once again we stopped to proffer our thanks and get educated on the methods of trail building.

“How do you move such huge rocks?” Jay asked as he eyed the boulders, some easily the size of a Galapagos giant tortoise. “They must weigh 500 pounds or so!”

“We mostly roll them, using these steel pry bars,” the crew leader answered. “Yesterday we mined 72 stones from the forest. It was a good day!”

“I guess you always try to get the rocks from the uphill side of trail then,” Jay laughed.

“We met a trail crew yesterday. The leader told us that these walkways made with stones could last 100 years,” I remarked.

“Well, I haven’t been around long enough to know if that is true,” the crew leader smiled. “But hopefully they will last a long time. It’s slow going, getting the rocks put in.”

“I think it is amazing, the way you lay them so close together, and all level! It makes it really easy to walk upon. Thank you so much!” I told him.

“You can be the first hikers to walk these 15 stones that are already laid,” he invited us.

As we walked excitedly over the stone path, I thought, ‘Wow, 15 rocks out of 72. They’ve got a huge job today!’

We took their picture, thanked them again, and continued, marveling at the dedication and commitment of these volunteers. Yes, these are the real heroes on the AT.

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Southbound …

July 5, 2017

IMG_20170705_161032143 — The day after climbing Katahdin, the mountain already looks a little far away!

So here we are, heading south on the AT, hips a little creaky, legs a little rubbery, but ready for more adventure and beauty! Jay, with the wisdom of experience, has scheduled ten easy miles for us, from Katahdin Stream Campground to Abol Pines Campground, ending our recovery day with a lovely fish and chips dinner at the Abol Bridge Northern Restaurant!

We are both sore, and battling headaches from the exertion of climbing Katahdin. The miles slowly pass with much natural beauty attempting to distract us from the pain of our bodies. Little Niagara and Big Niagara Falls are awesome! Water pours over a series of ledges, throwing up mist and froth, swirling at the bottom into a classic pool. “If this were anywhere else in the lower 48 states,” I remark to Jay, “there would be a road to these falls, with crowds of people! Instead, we have it all to ourselves. This is incredible!”

July 6, 2017

Both Jay and I are still tired from Katahdin! This is very surprising to me. I really expected to feel better today, after taking an easy day yesterday and getting a delicious meal at the restaurant. I guess climbing that mountain is not something one does on a whim!

We begin to meet many other southbounders today. All are tired, yet a little giddy. After all, they just conquered a trail that had to be painted onto rocks! How tough could the next 2,180 miles be compared to that?

As I think of all the people hiking the AT, each with his or her own agenda, schedule, ideas, joys, fears, experiences, a young hiker named Homer puts it into words: “There is only one path, the path you take.”

July 7-9, 2017

We enter the 100 Mile Wilderness!

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During this three days, we gradually recover our energy. We also see many lakes and ponds, bogs, moss, trees, mountains. Beauty is all around, it is our job to notice it.

We continue to meet more southbounders, beginning to put names with faces as we leapfrog with several small groups of hikers.

We hike, swim, eat, sleep, and get up to do it again! The lakes and ponds are so shallow, that the water is actually warm, a real treat! One day we see loons, another day we see mergansers.

On July 9, as I’m walking down the trail, I look up to see a marten peering at me from behind a tree trunk! I stop, amazed and enthralled. “Jay, look!” I whisper. We watch as the marten runs up the tree trunk, peers at us again, makes a flying leap to another tree, then disappears into the green north woods. Wow!

July 10, 2017

White Cap Mountain begins our day, the first mountain since Katahdin that is above tree-line. My pack feels heavy, and I am very slow over rocks and roots. The top is cold, windy, a little rainy. We take a picture, then scurry down to the protection of tree-line!

This same day we also climb Hay Mountain, West Peak, and Gulf Hagas Mountain. Yes, this is the AT. Either the trail goes up, or it goes down. Yee-hah!

July 11-13, 2017

The trail continues to challenge us with bogs, boulders, roots, rocks, mud, granite, vertical scrambles and horizontal boardwalk balances! A hiker named Mike describes the roots as looking like someone spilled a bowl of spaghetti across the ground. When it rains, those roots are about as slippery as spaghetti also!

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The trail also continues to give beauty at every turn, with sunlit lakes, misty bogs, mountain peak views, and deep forest shade. My pace has slowed, from a 45 minute mile to a 75 minute mile. It takes all day just to go 10 miles. If I think of how slowly I am hiking, I get discouraged. But Jay says to keep enjoying this beauty, and he is right. We are lucky to have enough time, enjoying the warm summer months in these north woods.

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July 14, 2017

We made it to Monson, Maine! Hot showers! Clean clothes! Resupply! Restaurants!

IMG_20170714_162948930 — Incredible food at the Spring Creek Bar-B-Que!

July 15, 2017

Monson is having it’s Summerfest this weekend. What fun!

IMG_20170715_143504719 — This is the “Anything Floats” Race, with three entries! Homemade craft paddled across the Monson Pond. Fun!

The day ends with fireworks at the ball field while the Spring Creek Bar-b-que Restaurant pipes patriotic tunes, including, “Proud to Be an American” and “The 1812 Overture”. What a lovely end to our zero day!

For more pictures of our adventures, please see our photo pages on the Menu!

Katahdin!

July 4, 2017

Katahdin! The terminus of the AT for northbound hikers holds the beginning of adventure for southbounders! For Jay and me, as flip-floppers, the climb up Katahdin marked the midpoint of our journey.

From Millinocket, Maine, the Appalachian Trail Lodge shuttled us to Baxter State Park, depositing us at the ranger station. We parked our backpacks on the ranger’s front porch, stuffed a borrowed day pack with food and rain gear, and registered. Finally, it was time to go!

The first mile of our journey was quite easy, with a wide trail, gentle tread, and scenic vistas of trees, rock, and moss. Winding rock stairs meandered up the foot of the mountain, gaining elevation in four inch increments. The mile ended at a stream with a Boy Scout-built bridge and a privy! What a practical thing to put on this heavily used trail!

Continuing past the privy, the trail gave a little evil chuckle, and suddenly boulders began appearing as the gradient steepened. Tangled bushes and thickets of pines pressed around us, forcing us to stay on the narrow stony track, conveniently marked with white AT blazes. From knee-high to thigh-high, the boulders required climbing, scrambling, clambering, shinnying, and sometimes crawling. “This isn’t so bad,” I remarked breathlessly. “It’s a little steep, but I can do it.”

About the time I was thinking of lunch, we reached tree-line. Suddenly, instead of a narrow path, the painted white blazes traversed the tops of a whole field of boulders. These rocks were car-sized, and vertical. My eyes traveled out, and up, and more up. “Oh geeze,” I thought in sudden panic. “What have I got myself into? I don’t like climbing mountains!”

The clouds that had been hovering all morning suddenly descended to eye level, spitting a few raindrops, but mostly just obscuring the view with mist and fog. That was fine by me. What I couldn’t see, didn’t exist, which allowed me to focus energy and muscles on each individual boulder challenge, following Jay as he disappeared above me into the atmosphere. An occasional piece of re-bar hammered into a rock face helped me climb, but I often felt that I could have used a whole ladder on most of those boulders. Toes, fingertips, knees, thighs, even stomach and posterior came into use as I crept up the ridge.

Finally, after an eternity of granite, we reached what is known as the Tableland, a relatively flat mile on top of Katahdin. The trail continued to boulder hop, but with smaller stones and more horizontally. Fortunately for me, the clouds persisted, obscuring the view. I was able to lie to myself, “See, you’ve done the hard part. The top is probably just a few minutes of easy walking!” Although my intellect knew the Tableland was slightly over a mile long, my gut was happy to accept the lie as we kept walking and walking and walking…

Just as I was about to give up completely, Jay said, “I see it! We’re almost to the sign!” Hopefully, I stopped, looking up, peering through the swirling mist. No sign. No celebrating people. Just gray, blank cloud. My shoulders sagged. My eyes fell back down to the boulders, my feet relentlessly taking slow step by slow step. I was sure Jay was right, but I was too tired to believe.

We climbed over a tiny hump, indistinguishable from the hundreds of tiny humps I’d already ascended during this last mile. But there, through the mist, a shape loomed precipitously above us, dim blobs of color resolved to people taking pictures, and we were there! The top! Katahdin!!!

In honor of our nation’s birthday, we had brought patriotic wigs to wear for our picture by the famous sign. Many people laughed and cheered as we donned our 4th of July head gear and posed.

Ten minutes passed as we ate a quick snack, preparing for the five miles downhill still ahead of us. Just as we were finishing, the clouds abruptly rolled off the top of the mountain, revealing spectacular scenery below – lakes, mountains, trees, granite. Nature’s glory at our feet! The sign was mobbed as people rushed to get their picture with the view. We settled for a picture of the view a few feet away from the sign.

20170704_142932 — Nature’s glory below us!

And then it was time to descend. Five miles, retracing the route we had so laboriously just climbed. But now I could see our route! It was amazing, looking at what I had climbed in blind ignorance. The last piece of re-bar completely did me in. As my toes felt for a hold on the rock, my eyes were inexorably drawn to the empty air between my legs. I froze, shaking, as I clutched that piece of iron with a death grip. Jay soothingly talked me down, helping me to focus on the problem of where to place each part of my body, instead of all the uninhabited expanse around my body!

We reached the ranger station just as day succumbed to darkness, having spent 12 hours climbing up and plunging down this mountain. I couldn’t have completed Katahdin without Jay’s help. I was tired, sore, and so glad to be on real dirt, not bare granite! My sleeping bag had never felt so luxurious as we settled into our reserved campsite at Katahdin Stream Campground. Aaaaah!